


what makes a monster, and what makes a man?

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Series: all hail corvo the black, lord regent [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence and Gore, Corvo the Black, Death in Childbirth, F/M, Gen, High Chaos (Dishonored), High Chaos Corvo Attano, Jessamine dies in childbirth and Corvo rules in her stead, Lord Regent Corvo Attano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 03:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: Hiram Burrows’ blood is still underneath Corvo’s nails when he arrives at the emergency meeting called by the lead ministers of Parliament.The Regency belonged to the High Minister of Parliament, did it not? No, it had belonged to Lord Burrows, but nobody could find Lord Burrows. It belonged to High Overseer Campbell. It belonged to Duke Olhouser. It belonged to whoever would be chosen via election from the nobility—Corvo sits in what had been Jessamine’s chair in the Parliamentary meeting hall in Tower as the lords and ladies bicker.It takes them time to notice that the very seat they’re arguing over has already been fulfilled, but when they do, the silence is stifling.There is still blood splattered across Corvo’s jacket, a little smear under his cheekbone.They have always been afraid of Corvo, of his nearly-permanent silence, of his blade, of his shadowing presence behind their Empress.“I will rule for my daughter,” Corvo rumbles. There is no room for question in his voice.





	what makes a monster, and what makes a man?

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Hunchback of Notre Dame musical version of "The Bells of Notre Dame," which is worth a listen.

Jessamine Kaldwin I’s reign lasts only two years.

In her last, dying moments, her only tearful words are questions about the blue-faced baby the midwife is trying to get to breathe. Even as Jessamine’s blood smears hot and red all over her pale skin in a flow the physician can’t seem to staunch, she only cries for her daughter.

The child lives, barely. Phlegm had obstructed her breathing and she’d nearly been lost, too, right along with her mother.

Once she’s been cleansed by the High Overseer, she’ll be crowned Empress of the Isles, the youngest ruler in history. For now, she sleeps in the arms of a nursemaid while the maids try to scrub her mother’s blood from the floor and the bed.

For the first time in seven decades, a throat is slit in Dunwall Tower.

Corvo watches, expression stony, as the former Spymaster’s blood drains into the sink. That child was _his_ daughter. Everyone in court had known it. Pamphlets had been passed around outside the Tower when Jessamine’s belly had gotten too large to hide any more, calling the Empress a wench, a whore—sleeping with her Serkonan bodyguard out of wedlock, conceiving a bastard child that she was trying to present the same way she’d present a legitimate one.

And now Spymaster Burrows would have claimed Corvo’s daughter for himself, used her to validate him claim to the regency.

 _Emily_.

He’d name her Emily. Jessamine had told him the name she’d chosen, the significance of it to her family. _Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, first of her name_.

He would protect her, like he’d protected her mother. _Corvo, take care of the child,_ Jessamine had whispered, when her labor had begun only a dozen hours ago. She’d looked so frightened when the midwives had insisted Corvo leave her chambers. _Before you go, Corvo, promise me—whatever happens, you will protect the child._

Corvo would slit as many throats as it took.

* * *

Hiram Burrows’ blood is still underneath Corvo’s nails when he arrives at the emergency meeting called by the lead ministers of Parliament.

The Regency belonged to the High Minister of Parliament, did it not? No, it had belonged to Lord Burrows, but nobody could find Lord Burrows. It belonged to High Overseer Campbell. It belonged to Duke Olhouser. It belonged to whoever would be chosen via election from the nobility—

Corvo sits in what had been Jessamine’s chair in the Parliamentary meeting hall in Tower as the lords and ladies bicker.

It takes them time to notice that the very seat they’re arguing over has already been fulfilled, but when they do, the silence is nearly deafening.

There is still blood splattered across Corvo’s jacket, a little smear under his cheekbone.

They have always been afraid of Corvo, of his nearly-permanent silence, of his blade, of his shadowing presence behind their Empress.

“I will rule for my daughter,” Corvo rumbles. There is no room for question in his voice.

He can see how the magistrates and the nobles want to argue, the tension in their bodies and the shock writ across their faces. Some poor servant girl rushes into the room, white apron stained with dried brown blood. “Lord Burrows is dead! He’s been assassinated!” the girl shouts.

Every eye in the room falls to Corvo, to the blood on his clothing, the gore under his nails.

High Overseer Campbell falls to one knee, head bowed. “The Abbey of the Everyman is honored to serve His Imperial Highness, Lord Corvo Attano, Royal Protector and Lord Regent of the Empire of the Isles,” he says in a hushed tone.

“Long live Lord Attano, Lord Regent,” adds Minister Dodd. His face is flushed with sweat. “Blessed may his reign be.”

Corvo leans back in the chair as one by one, every person in the room falls to their knees.

_All hail Lord Corvo Attano, Lord Regent of the Empire of the Isles._

* * *

Corvo holds Emily as the High Overseer drags his thumb across her forehead, anointing her with the leviathan’s oil.

“Lead this child towards the bright fire we burn against the growing darkness of this world,” Campbell recites, stepping back from Emily. “May the life of her father be an example of faith to inspire her.” That line is delivered with a particular enthusiasm, and Corvo is certain that Campbell is glaring underneath his golden mask. “May she always be guarded against the chaos of the Outsider and the foggy expanses of his Void. May her heart always be true against the whispers of doubt and strangeness.”

Campbell dips his thumb in the oil again, running it against Emily’s forehead in the opposite direction. “Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, go forth into this world, free of the Void and the Outsider’s darkness, guarded by the light of the Abbey.”

Corvo does not flinch as Campbell claps his hands together as loudly as his leather gloves allow, and Emily barely stirs.

“Now… Do you, Corvo Attano, son of Serkonos, first of your name, solemnly swear and promise to govern the peoples of Empire of the Isles, according to the laws and customs of each, in the stead of Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, daughter of Gristol, the first of her name, until she may come of age and assume her rightful throne?” Campbell asks.

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

The next throat he slits will be Campbell’s. There is something corrupt within the man. He will be the next to grab for Emily’s throne.

“Will Law and Justice, in Mercy, be executed in all your judgements?”

“They will.”

“Will you, to the utmost of your power, preserve the good stand of the common man against the Outsider? Will you maintain and preserve in the Empire of the Isles the presence of the Abbey of the Everyman? Will you preserve unto the Overseers and the Oracular Sisters of the Abbey of the Everyman all such privileges as by law do or shall appertain to them?”

“All this, I promise to do.” Emily stirs, twisting slightly in her white cleansing gown.

_Corvo, promise me._

The Overseer holds up the delicate leather-bound copy of _The Litany on the White Cliff_ that had sworn in Jessamine before Corvo, and her father before her. Corvo presses his palm to it without hesitation. “The things I have promised here I shall keep and perform, to the utmost of my ability, until Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, daughter of Gristol, first of her name, shall come of age and assume her rightful throne.”

“All hail His Imperial Highness, Corvo Attano, Lord Regent of the Empire of the Isles,” the audience echoes after the High Overseer.  “All hail Her Imperial Highness, Emily Kaldwin, Crown Princess of the Empire of the Isles.”

_Corvo, promise me—whatever happens, you will protect the child._

Corvo holds Emily closer to his body and looks out upon his daughter’s kingdom, upon the magistrates who look anywhere except at Corvo and the circlet of steel he’s taken as his crown.

They will all bleed, if that’s what it takes.

* * *

They have not called Corvo the Lord Regent in almost a year.

They call him Corvo the Black, now. Corvo the Vengeful. Only the servants and Parliament bother addressing him by his real title anymore.

Jessamine had tried to find compromises in court. She had tried to be kind, to be merciful.

It had earned her nothing but a cold marble plaque in the Imperial Crypt beside her father.

Corvo poisons an entire dinner party of diplomats from Morley a year into his regency. They had sat at the table expecting negotations for a peace between the Morley Independence Party and the Imperial Crown. They leave Dunwall in a funeral ship.

That night, the Outsider visits.

_You would burn this entire empire to the ground, wouldn’t you, Corvo? You would do anything, if you thought it would protect her._

The new Mark on the back of Corvo’s hand burns when he wakes up.

_You make yourself into a monster for her. Choke the air with ash, flood the river red with blood._

_In a few decades, Corvo, what will history say?_

_How will your legacy be remembered, Lord Regent?_

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my writing challenge! There were a few images I was inspired by but nothing in particular. 
> 
> talk to me [on tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com) | [deleted]


End file.
